Desperate Measures
by Anastadne
Summary: HGSS:When a lethal potion is about to be unleashed at Hogwarts, Snape does the only thing he can think of to stop it. Desperate times call for desperate measures. Cowritten by TimeTurnerforSale:Of Debts and Debt Collection and Ariadne AWS:A Walking Shadow
1. Good Intentions

_Disclaimer: All characters belong to the great JKR. No money to be made here. Only inspiration borne out of admiration. _

_A/N: We hope you enjoy the mutual brainchild of TimeTurnerforSale and Ariadne AWS, who believe that desperate times - conference calls and ends of semesters - call for desperate measures: writing your writing partner into a corner and passing the keyboard. It all started with one of TTFS's LJ icons (courtesy of Laurel TX), which contains the first line of the story..._

Summary: When a lethal potion is about to be unleashed at Hogwarts, Snape does the only thing he can think of to stop it: "... so I grabbed Hermione and threw her down - "

Desperate times call for desperate measures...

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**Good Intentions**

"... so I grabbed Hermione and threw her down - " Severus said as he tugged his cuff back, held up his hand, and swept it forward to illustrate his point.

Minerva had been growing paler with every word. Finally, she interrupted, "Severus! The Board of Governors..."

"Bugger the Board of Governors. They had little to do with what transpired tonight, although if they had been at all capable of telling their wands from their arses, this predicament might have been avoided."

Minerva leaned forward, eying him suspiciously, "And what predicament would that be?"

Severus spread his fingers across her desk and became interested in a paperweight, picking it up and moving it a few inches along before replacing it. He mumbled something in response.

"Sorry, I didn't catch that?"

"She has somehow has lost her mind. Perhaps she has ingested some sort of herb that has addled her brain. I will need to do some research - " Severus said, keeping his hand occupied with a small statue of a griffin, frowning at it as if it had insulted him.

Minerva pursed her lips, grabbed the statue out of his hand and ordered, "Out with it, Snape."

"I have reason to believe she loves me," he said quickly, awaiting her predictably incredulous response.

Minerva's hand flew to her chest as she gasped, "And - what gives you that idea?" She fixed him with a piercing glare.

"Are you daft? She told me!" Severus snapped, folding his arms over his chest.

Minerva slowly took her seat. After taking a moment to recover her composure, she said softly, "Why Severus..."

He glowered at her.

Minerva struggled, saying distractedly, "... that's... that's..."

"Spare me your assessment of my personal life," Severus said, scowling at her and stepping away from her desk.

"... complicated, indeed," Minerva said, pondering. "The Board of Governors will be expecting a report by return of their owl. I will do what I can to buy us time. Perhaps a Potions accident..."

Severus bristled. "My record on that score is unimpeachable."

Looking over her glasses, Minerva said sternly, "I do not believe, Severus, that many will believe you 'unimpeachable' now."

Severus glared at her, then his intensity fled. Stepping closer to her desk, he contemplated the problem. "Yes, we could claim that she was doing extra credit work - "

"Extra credit work, Severus?" Minerva said with a huff, her eyebrows raised, "Really."

"Oh, Minerva, please - you certainly don't believe I would take advantage?

She looked at him, eyebrows lifted, then shook her head, "Severus, this could hardly be consensual."

Severus took sudden interest in Minerva's desk, placing his hands on the edge. "No - No, of course not." He ran his hands along the desk, following the wood grain with a finger, exhaling slowly. _Blasted Potter,_ he thought. _Can't keep a thought in his head without it frothing out his mouth._ He continued to run his palms along the desk's edge.

Observing him carefully, she asked, "Why here, of all places, Severus? Why at Hogwarts?"

Turning slowly toward her, his eyes narrowing to glinting pinpricks, he hid his hands with his cloak.

Minerva shuddered. He'd perfected that move at seventeen, and knew its effects all too well. She guessed, rightly, that she would not want to hear his next words.

"Potter," Severus sneered. "And his sidekick. They sent her to keep watch - I suspect after she tried, unsuccessfully, as usual, to talk them out of it."

Minerva looked at him, startled.

"Yes, Minerva. Your golden boy. Not quite as golden if word of this gets out. Which it will."

"Which it has, Severus. How do you propose I answer the owl? You'll be lucky to have a job by morning. Assaulting a student... any student... but especially Miss Granger."

"If I had not 'assaulted' her, Minerva, do you believe any of us would be alive to worry about propriety?"

Minerva observed Severus closely, too closely. He shifted, then said, "Yes, Minerva. There is an explanation."

"Please do share, Severus. I believe it would be to your benefit."

Severus scowled at her, then fixed her with a look that chilled her blood. "I was working on a potion for the Dark Lord. Potter had been following me, trying to find out what I was doing, when I was going to meetings."

"You knew, of course," Minerva said.

Severus rolled his eyes. "Potter is about as subtle as his father, and just as reckless in regards to his friends' safety."

Minerva blanched, but couldn't argue. "Go on."

He sighed and crossed his arms. "Potter and Weasley were going to break into my private lab, to see what I was working on, why I was leaving so often. What they didn't know was I was following them."

Minerva nodded in silence.

"I saw Miss Granger outside the lab's door, acting as an obvious lookout. She was, of course, easy to catch by surprise, so I took hold of her and saw that Potter was about to open the lid to the cauldron holding the potion," Severus said and shook his head in disgust. "I ordered Potter to stop, but he started to lift the lid - in defiance."

"Severus, what does the potion do?" Minerva asked, her eyes wide. Clearly this was even more serious than she expected – which, in itself, was serious enough.

Severus ran his hand through his hair. "When finished, it would grant magical powers, including wand use, to the Inferi. With wands, they would be an unstoppable army. We wouldn't have a chance..."

Minerva gasped, her hands flying to her mouth in shock.

Severus nodded. "I will obviously never finish such a potion, but I need to placate the Dark Lord with the semblance of progress, or else - well - "

She nodded and reached a hand out to Severus' shoulder. She noticed that he flinched just slightly when her hand rested on him.

"The raw ingredients of the potion are highly toxic. Beyond anything imaginable." He ran his hands through his hair. "It must be brewed for a stage in a closed room and with a lid. If the fumes were to escape - "

"Are you saying… ?"

"Yes, Minerva. The fumes are lethal and could have spread through the castle. Potter's insipid thirst for knowledge he has no business pursuing could have killed us all."

Minerva swayed slightly, then sat down.

Severus nodded, in full agreement with her reaction. "The ingredients are so volatile that I couldn't risk using magic to stop him, and I was too far away - his hand was on the cover." He swallowed hard. "Once he saw what I… what I was… what I had done, his attention was… diverted."

"Severus," Minerva said, a shaking hand touching her forehead as she tried to collect her thoughts, "that doesn't explain why Miss Granger has told you she loves you."

"Yes," he said, reverting to examining her desk. "I, of course, explained what could have happened to them, then sent them directly to you. Potter, in his typical infinite wisdom, waited outside the Potions classroom door."

Minerva nodded.

He leaned forward on her desk, resting on his elbows and with his head in his hands said, "Her reaction to my saving their lives was to kiss me - and tell me she loved me."

"Oh, Severus," Minerva said shaking her head. "Was there no other way?"

He knew the question was rhetorical, but he could erase neither his actions nor his memories, and, finally, he snapped. "If there had been," he said slowly, "do you imagine... " The sentence trailed off into silence as he turned his head to regard her intently through a curtain of hair.

"Even you have limits, Severus," Minerva said, quietly.

He slammed his fist down, hard, on the desk. "And I have not reached them yet, but this night has pushed me very close to them, Minerva." He scowled at her. "Very. Close."

The owl perched on the nearby bookshelves hooted, startled. It ruffled its wings, affronted, sweeping both humans with a look of haughty disdain.

"I shall tell the Board of Governors that the... incident was the result of an unauthorized experiment, and that your actions were a timely response to extreme circumstances that could have been far, far worse."

He scowled skeptically.

"They will, of course, expect the student to be... punished."

"Potter?"

"No, Severus," Minerva shook her head, sadly. "The less attention focused on him the better, at the moment. No, Miss Granger shall bear the brunt of your - indiscretion."

Severus' eyes grew flat, but he said nothing.

Minerva rose. "Dumbledore will return from London later this evening. He will doubtless wish to speak with you."

Severus nodded and swept back to his private lab.

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He stood with his hands on the table and hung his head. He closed his eyes and replayed the incident over and over in his mind. Different outcomes came into focus and passed by as he recalculated, following paths backward and forward after replacing variables.

He sighed deeply and opened his eyes, staring down at the well worn wood, losing himself in the grain's pattern. After a while he stood straight and turned - and was startled into dropping his hand.

"Miss Granger, you should not be here," Severus said, his eyes narrowing.

Hermione moved further into the lab, her hands held together, her fingernails digging nervous half moons into her skin.

Severus' eyes shifted quickly towards the door as he unconsciously countered her movement. The last thing he needed was a repeat performance.

Hermione stopped. "I'm sorry, sir. I really am. I - "

"Miss Granger, there is nothing for you to apologize for," Severus began, then twisted his voice into a sneer, "except for your choice of friends."

Hermione nodded in silence. She noticed that he had become hesitant, eyeing the exit as if she was dangerous and might explode at any moment. She figured that was deserved. She had, after all, professed love to a man who probably didn't know the meaning of the word.

"There is, though," she said, trying to ignore how he was backing towards the Potion classroom's door, keeping an eye on her. "I didn't mean, well, I did mean that - I mean - "

Severus froze.

"Miss Granger, you couldn't possibly," Severus said. It had suddenly become difficult to breathe. The thought that anyone would feel… that way… about him immediately sent his mind reeling – questioning not only their intentions, but their sanity as well.

Hermione approached him, frowning as he gestured towards the open classroom door. Instead of passing by, she stopped in front of him, searching his eyes.

"Do you really want me to leave?" Hermione asked, staring so intently at him that Severus felt it in his very soul - a place he hadn't thought existed any more.

"I do think it best, yes," he said, his hand gripping the door handle so hard the metal groaned as the bolts shifted within the wood.

"In true Slytherin fashion, you haven't answered my question," Hermione countered. The fact that he hadn't completely lost his temper and yelled at her to leave told her something was there.

"Yes, Miss Granger. It should not have happened. I apologize for what I did; my actions were unthinkable. And what happened afterward cannot happen again. You must leave." When she made no move to obey, he narrowed his eyes and snarled, "Now."

Hermione's expression, however, didn't change. She kept studying him, watching his reaction. When he continued to stand there, making no move to force her to leave, she knew.

He couldn't bring himself to yell at her. Not when he knew she would be the one to bear the burden of this whole mess. She was still looking at him, moving closer, tilting her head up...

She was so close she could feel the pace of his breathing. He wore his usual calm, cool demeanor, but she knew differently. Only inches away, she could see how his eyes moved slightly, intelligence flashing, thinking through a thousand possibilities in a single moment - just as she was doing.

"I'll leave. If you tell me that you felt nothing," she said, the hint of a smile shining in her eyes.

Severus immediately shook his head and stepped further into the hallway. "Nothing at all. Now, I must insist you leave, Miss Granger."

She stared at him for a moment, her eyes watching his.

He returned her gaze. He had become so proficient at lying that he had raised the act to a veritable art form. Enjoying the delicate dance between truth and deception, remembering the various layers of his life, the players in each and what they believed. This, however, was different. She was somehow unnerving him simply by remaining still. Simply watching him.

He kept his eyes carefully blank.

Hermione smiled gently and leaned forward, prompting Severus to press himself against the door.

She stared into his startled eyes and, in a voice so soft it was scarcely more than a whisper, said, "Don't lie to me."

He said nothing. Only the torchlight reflecting in his eyes, moving as they moved, betrayed the fact that he was alive, present in the moment.

She waited, a gesture away from him, watching his eyes as they moved from her eyes to her lips and back, a question forming in them despite the act of will that was keeping him still, a will so palpable she could feel it on her skin, the hair on her arms responding, her lips parting slightly as her skin came alive with memory.

His eyes flicked again to her lips and then away, sharply. "Silence is never a lie, Miss Granger."

"It's never the truth, either."

She could see him swallow, and she warmed at the thought of the effect that her presence, her closeness, was having on the smooth polish of his reserve.

He dared one more look into her eyes. His lips barely moving, his voice a quiet echo, he spoke carefully, as if the slightest movement would shatter his resolve. "Truth requires no words, Miss Granger. Now go. Please." Between them, hidden from even the empty room, he brushed one cautious, gentle finger against the back of her hand and closed his eyes. "Go. Before you bring the entire castle down on both of us."

Her skin burning from his fleeting touch, her eyes wide, she nodded and left.

When he was sure she was gone, he let his head fall back against the door, clenching his fists at his sides.

He could still breathe the lingering scent of her, still feel her warmth as it faded from the air. The softest groan escaped his throat.

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"Lemon drop, Severus?"

Severus refused Dumbledore's offer for what seemed like the thousandth time and leaned back in his chair. His tea sat, growing cold. The world had been a fog since she'd left him standing, completely unnerved, in the doorway.

Dumbledore carefully replaced the lid on the bowl. Pleasantries aside, it was time.

"Severus, Minerva shared with me your account of what happened," Dumbledore said thoughtfully. "But I have a more pressing question."

Severus had, until that moment, been staring at the light reflecting through the glass jar. Anyone watching would have believed him fascinated with them, perhaps secretly wishing to try one of the wretched sweets Dumbledore insisted on offering constantly. Severus swore that if the Dark Lord himself entered the office, Dumbledore's first and last words would be "Lemon drop?"

He was not staring at the jar in want of a lemon drop; rather he needed to avoid looking at something else: his damned eyes.

"Severus, look at me," Dumbledore said quietly.

Dragging his eyes upwards from the flickering torchlight in the jar to Dumbledore's face took great effort. Expecting to be met with a stern, disapproving look, Severus was stunned to find concern.

"Why did you not tell me what Voldemort asked you to do?"

Severus exhaled slowly, and Dumbledore frowned.

"Severus," Dumbledore began quietly, "you must tell me. We cannot afford the risk of your being forced to leave Hogwarts."

"I did not mention it to you for _precisely_ that reason. Had you known, you must have forbidden it. And as difficult as it would be to continue my work for the Order absent the 'security' of my teaching position here, risking your position is by far the more severe risk. You must remain near Potter, especially now, whereas I..."

A single gesture, a small inflection - neither should have been able to support the weight of the vacuum behind them.

Dumbledore leaned back in his chair. "You are not expendable, Severus."

Keeping his hands carefully relaxed on the arms of his chair, Severus met the older wizard's gaze. "Headmaster, with all due respect, I must point out that your well-rehearsed arguments on that score are tangential to our discussion."

Dumbledore appeared not to have heard him. "Miss Granger does not find you expendable." Without betraying any hint of increased alertness, Dumbledore watched Severus' eyes carefully.

And there it was. Dumbledore could not have described what it was - the widening of a black pupil against a black iris was undetectable even to the wizarding eye - but there was something, and Dumbledore knew it.

In an instant, Severus' eyes had gone from predator to prey.

"Which brings me to the crux of the matter," Dumbledore continued, closing his eyes against the need for ruthlessness.

Severus waited, trying not to appear frozen.

"You must show me what happened."

Even the portraits saw Severus' eyes widen at that.

Mouth too dry to speak, Severus nodded. He stood and moved toward the cabinet where Dumbledore kept the Pensieve. They had done this many times before for his reports.

"Severus - I think perhaps it would be safer not to use the Pensieve for this."

"Indeed," Severus managed to croak.

"It is... difficult. I know. If I am to manage this situation, I have no choice." Dumbledore's look softened. "I risk much by offering my apologies, but Severus – for this, I am sorry."

"We all do what we must, Headmaster."

Dumbledore arose and joined Severus in front of the desk. He raised his wand and whispered, "_Legilimens._"

Severus' hands flew to the edge of the headmaster's desk and he clenched it, hard.

Dumbledore's mind lingered for a moment on the edges of Severus' thoughts, sensing his distress in the disruption of the usually crystalline organization of the younger wizard's mind.

With a brittle self-discipline that brought a lump to Dumbledore's throat, Severus willed his mind to calm, and, although the effort cost him, his mind obeyed. Trying to hold his roiling emotions firmly in check, he offered his memory for Dumbledore's inspection.

He did not let go of the desk.

Dumbledore closed his eyes and concentrated. He felt Severus' anger at Voldemort and his very real desire to protect the security of Dumbledore's position at almost any cost. He felt his growing annoyance at Potter and Weasley's bumbling efforts at tailing him, and he felt his sense of panic when he realized that Potter was one defiant movement away from accidental mass murder.

Dumbledore recognized the sharp glittering flashes of memory that always characterized Severus' quicksilver analysis of life-and-death situations. He had seen this many times before in the Pensieve; the ability had saved Severus' life, and those of many in the Order, including his own, countless times. Many times Dumbledore had replayed Severus analyses more slowly, but he had never once found fault with Severus' brutally instinctive logic, and doubted he would do so now.

As Dumbledore's path through the memory approached Severus' decision to do the unthinkable, Severus' hands started to tremble.

He forced his mind to stay clear, open, and ordered, but knew that his body would betray him.

He clenched the edge of the desk so tightly that a decorative bit of carving snapped off under his hand.

Severus didn't notice.

Inside the other man's mind, Dumbledore felt what he thought of as the beads of Severus' analysis fall, finally, ordered, into a decision.

He felt Severus grab Miss Granger.

He felt the young witch's small scream of surprise.

He felt Severus' heart break as he threw her down on the table, dragging her robes up to reveal her bare legs.

He felt her struggle against Severus' grasp on her wrists.

He felt Severus keep one surreptitious, curtained eye on Potter, felt him tear Miss Granger's blouse open, roughly dragging its edges aside, exposing her more forcefully, continuing his assault, with his hands, his mouth, on her person until he was certain that Potter's blinding, terminally stupid impulse had been replaced with shock and horror.

And Dumbledore knew how much it had cost him.

Because he had also felt Severus' breathtaking tenderness for the brilliant young witch, and the ruthlessness with which he had locked it away from himself, and the reasons why.

Finally, Dumbledore released the spell. Instinctively his hand raised to Severus' shoulder, a gesture of compassion, of understanding, of sympathy - but he stopped just before he touched him.

Severus was trembling uncontrollably.


	2. Full Disclosure

A/N: Thank you for your reviews! We hope you enjoy the second installment. Special thanks to hobbittabby and Indigofeathers for their sharp eyes. -TimeTurnerForSale and Ariadne AWS

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**Full Disclosure**

"Severus?" Dumbledore said softly, fearing he would lash out. He had seen Severus in various states over the years, but nothing compared to this – his reaction was beyond any argument, protest or disturbing report.

Severus gripped the edge of the desk and hung his head, hair sliding forward in sections, moving in time with his pounding heart, trembling. His shoulders shook rhythmically, his body betraying the raging firestorm of emotion within.

Ignoring Dumbledore, Severus eased himself back to sit in a chair and tossed the hair out of his eyes. Long strands crossed his forehead, held by a thin sheen of sweat, but he made no attempt to move them. He stared at an ornate piece of woodwork along the edge of the headmaster's desk, concentrating on the meticulous detail, scrolled with perfect precision, its motion rising and falling in orderly, soothing repetition towards the edge, where it had been savagely broken and ripped apart.

Severus opened his hand and stared at the piece of wood. He had no memory of the destruction.

Dumbledore stood, arm still poised in the air from reaching to touch the younger wizard. Slowly, he moved to stand in front of Severus, and leaned back against the desk's edge. A deep sigh escaped him as he shook his head.

"You are human, Severus. Of that, there is no doubt," Dumbledore said. He reached forward, holding out his hand for the piece of wood. "Sometimes - in times like these - we forget that fact."

Severus made no response other than to place the piece into Dumbledore's hand, hating how his own still shook.

Dumbledore's heart broke as he stared at Severus, knowing that his next words could surely earn him Severus' eternal hatred and wrath. But it needed to be done. He placed the piece of wood trim behind him on the desk.

"The kiss, Severus."

Severus' eyes shot up to Dumbledore's face. He shook his head and stood, shoving the chair backwards.

"Severus - "

"No," Severus stated, his arm still outstretched, unmoving, from having flung the chair away.

For a moment Dumbledore wondered if he was going to hit him. Dumbledore did not move.

"I will do what I must," Severus said, desperately. "For you, for Hogwarts, for the Order. But that - that I will not do."

"You must, Severus," Dumbledore said gently but firmly, a whisper of regret in his tone.

"No," Severus said sharply. "That is not yours to ask, nor is it mine to share. That memory - the action, the impulse - those are hers, and even if honor did not forbid me to share it with you, common courtesy requires that you ask her consent."

Dumbledore stood stock still, taken aback less by the refusal than by the authority of the tone behind it. He pursed his lips slowly, then spoke. "I appreciate your scruples, of course, Severus, but - "

"Good. Then the matter is settled." Severus stood before the headmaster and waited.

Dumbledore opened his mouth to try again, but Severus' eyes narrowed.

His voice was quiet but adamant, Severus said, "Headmaster, in times like these, often one must choose to forget that one is human. Often, yes. Not always. Certainly not now."

Dumbledore looked away, and swept his fingers briefly along the broken bit of carving. "If that is your final word on the subject... ?"

"It is." Severus' eyes were hard.

The headmaster sighed, and nodded. "Very well. You give me no choice but to send for Miss Granger." Dumbledore righted Severus' chair with a wave of his wand. "You may stay, Severus, or go, as you wish."

Severus' eyes flicked once toward the door. But after that one glance, he sat, rested his elbows on the arms of the chair, and waited. He did not take his eyes off of Dumbledore.

Dumbledore walked heavily to his desk and looked at the broken wood on its otherwise empty surface. The lightness of the unvarnished rough edge stood out markedly in contrast.

It was pointing straight at him.

After spending several minutes apparently pondering this random placement, he placed a finger on it and turned it, slightly.

With one part of his mind, Severus watched this pantomime; the other was rapidly assessing the protocols on which the Board of Governors would be insisting, probably that very night. He could, he knew, protect Dumbledore's position without compromising secrecy - the headmaster's absence the previous year had been disastrous for the school and for the Order. His own teaching position was more tenuous, but he was fairly certain that their inevitable inquiry would follow a predictable approach. He was fairly certain that he could undermine their reasoning, whatever form it took.

That left two questions.

How had the Board of Governors found out so very quickly that something was amiss at the school? And -

His train of thought was interrupted by a hesitant knocking at the office door.

- and _her_.

"Please come in, Miss Granger," Dumbledore said cordially, his hand gesturing towards the empty chair. His eyes rested briefly on Severus, gauging his reaction to her presence.

Severus raised his eyes briefly, meeting Dumbledore's gaze with a sharp, penetrating, almost pleading look, before he quickly shoved his hair aside and pushed himself up to stand.

Hermione slowly entered the office. There was no point in pretending that this was not a serious situation, the tension in the office was so palpable, so real. If anger could be conveyed through the air, she could most definitely feel the energy of emotional turmoil. She tried to keep from looking at Severus as he stood, his manners remaining intact even under such pressure.

As Hermione took a seat, Dumbledore said, "Miss Granger, it will not surprise you that I asked you here in connection with the events of earlier. In order to gain a complete account of them, I have viewed much of the incident using Legilimency. However, there remains one final moment."

Hermione shifted in her chair, attempting almost beyond all hope to avoid looking at Severus. To think that he had had to submit himself to Legilimency made her heart seize with sympathy. She had the overwhelming urge to apologize for Ron and Harry, for allowing them to pressure her into it - for everything.

Dumbledore looked between the two of them - Severus, staring resolutely at a indeterminable point somewhere on his desk and Hermione at her own lap. In that moment, they looked like two love-struck students caught out of bed after hours.

"I will need to view that event, and Severus has reminded me that it would be polite to request your permission," Dumbledore said serenely, sensing the tension coming from Severus, whose silence was somehow more disturbing than any amount of shouting he had ever done in the past.

Hermione looked at Dumbledore, startled. She then turned to Severus, who was looking at her intently, a crease in his brow.

If she'd had to guess, she would have said he was pleading with her to refuse.

"Miss Granger, I must insist. It is important for me to have the entire story in order to properly handle this situation with the Board of Governors," Dumbledore said, forcefully softening his voice despite the urgency of the matter. He leaned forward and looked down at his desk for a moment.

Severus rose with a sudden rustle. A sweep of his robes trailed across the back of Hermione's chair as he passed, without a word, to the window, where he stared silently, either out into the night or at his own reflection in the glass.

Dumbledore took a steadying breath, watching as Severus tilted his head down, as if awaiting his fate.

"Headmaster, I understand," Hermione said carefully, not looking at Dumbledore, but rather at Severus' suddenly stiffened back, "but, if I may ask that you use my memory instead of Professor Snape's? It would make more sense to see it from my point of view, since it was I who - well..."

Dumbledore watched as Severus turned his head slightly, then, relaxing a fraction, continued his vigil at the window. In the reflection, however, Dumbledore could see Severus' eyes slip closed in what small relief could be found in such chaos.

"Very well, Miss Granger. If you are sure?" Dumbledore asked, rising to came around his desk, his wand held tightly in his hand.

Hermione nodded, unsure whether she was supposed to stand or sit when submitting to Legilimency. She looked toward Severus, almost hoping he would turn around and look at her, anything.

Suddenly, in a clear voice, Severus said, "You had better do it quickly."

Dumbledore looked up, startled.

Severus turned around and crossed his arms over his chest. "Because they're here."

Dumbledore nodded solemnly, as if this news were no surprise. "Severus, please alert Minerva and have her join us. I believe it is her right as Head of Miss Granger's House to be present."

Severus nodded and strode towards the Floo.

Hermione's mind raced. She tried to relax, but found herself gripping the arms of her chair. An expanse of black fabric flew past her view as she looked up at Dumbledore.

Dumbledore stepped in front of her, and said in a soothing but hurried voice, "Miss Granger, we must do this quickly. Please concentrate on the event so that I may view it easily. Try not to resist."

Hermione nodded and watched as Dumbledore waved his wand slightly and whispered, "_Legilimens_."

Immediately, it became all too clear to Hermione why Severus must find being subjected to Legilimency repulsive. The feeling of someone in your thoughts, even someone she trusted as much as Dumbledore, was incredibly disturbing, and the loss of even a small fraction of control instilled a deep-seated, primal fear. Shoving her instincts to flee aside, she did her best to relax, to push the memory to the forefront of her mind, and to keep her emotions locked away.

She resolutely ignored the fact that her pounding heart mocked her attempts at deception. Dumbledore could surely hear it…

Dumbledore leaned closer and concentrated on moving quickly without causing her too much distress. He felt her efforts to remain calm and to offer up the memory for his inspection. Almost immediately, the image of the Potions lab swam to the surface of her mind.

He saw Severus raging at Harry and Ron, ordering them to go to Minerva's office and await him there. From Severus' face, he knew he had never seen him so upset – he was beyond coherent words – it was pure rage.

Dumbledore watched through Hermione's eyes as Harry and Ron left the room. Then the view was confused. As the two boys left the room, her field of vision swung suddenly around, and he was again met with Severus' face: mortally pale, his chest rising and falling from what had been, undoubtedly, the scare of a lifetime full of horrors.

Dumbledore saw Severus' eyes fall on Hermione and soften immediately.

"Miss Granger, I apologize-"

Dumbledore's heart sank at Severus' tone - a tone he had never heard him use, or even thought him capable of. It contained deep regret. Concern. The fact that Severus had used that tone of voice with her immediately after a near-catastrophe spoke volumes, volumes that Dumbledore would have preferred not to read.

The headmaster felt Hermione's emotions welling higher at the knowledge that Severus had just saved not only their own lives, but those of most, if not all, of the castle's inhabitants. She evinced no anger at the methods Severus had used to draw Harry away – Harry, yelling that he'd have Severus fired by daybreak. Dumbledore felt only her gratitude, and her shame at her friend's actions - even as she hurriedly fixed her clothing.

Dumbledore watched as she approached Severus, the change in his face, and then the kiss.

And Dumbledore knew - he could feel it. This was not a spur-of-the-moment expression of gratitude, caused by adrenalin. This was something that had been held back – shuddering on the edge of control – now loose to crash through any and all barriers – a response to something so deep, so powerful that it could not be ignored.

Dumbledore tried to remain objective, but he could scarcely ignore the ignition of passion between the two of them. It was as if they had been both awaiting this opportunity. Something breaking down - overriding - forcing their admission, if only in one gesture, for one sweeping moment.

When the words "I love you" raced through her heart and out of her mouth, whispered against Severus' lips, Dumbledore knew that this was no simple schoolgirl's crush - it was too real – too well-worn. Miss Granger had loved Severus for some time before this night.

And from Dumbledore's experience viewing Severus' memory, he knew the feelings were not entirely one-sided.

Dumbledore released the spell and watched as Miss Granger blinked and turned her eyes up to his.

"I'm sorry, Professor," she said shakily.

Dumbledore didn't respond other than to nod gently. He closed his eyes slowly, struck with the complicating realization that to allow either one of them to testify using a Pensieve memory would be utterly disastrous.

Hermione turned to find that Severus had once again taken his seat next to her. Professor McGonagall was standing next to Dumbledore's desk, wringing her hands fretfully.

Severus was watching her intently, his expression unreadable.

"I'm sorry," she said again, this time to Severus.

As a knock came at Dumbledore's office door, Severus gave his head the slightest possible shake, as if to say he was not.


	3. Dangerous Innocence

A/N: Thank you for your reviews! We hope you enjoy the next installment. Special thanks to hobbittabby and Indigofeathers for their sharp eyes. - TimeTurnerForSale and Ariadne AWS

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**Dangerous Innocence**

"Do come in," Dumbledore said pleasantly, gesturing for Minerva to conjure extra chairs. "Ah, the inestimable Pulsifer," he greeted the head of the Board. "Welcome." He nodded to each of the governors as they took off their traveling cloaks and settled gratefully into chairs. Turning to an old witch who was tottering heavily on a rather ugly walking stick, he said, "Hildegrand, it has been too long. Still gouty, I see?" He clucked sympathetically. "So painful, gout. My brother - "

Hermione was nearly overcome with a completely inappropriate urge to giggle as Dumbledore offered the witch the most comfortable chair.

The urge was quickly squelched, however, when the head of the Board turned his raptor-like countenance toward them and launched, without ceremony, into a hearing.

"Professor Snape," Pulsifer began, settling rather stiffly into the central chair, his grizzled, wiry eyebrows bristling at the room. "Your behaviour of earlier this evening jeopardizes a fundamental trust - the very trust on which the principles of any school must rest, especially a school as ancient and venerable as Hogwarts."

Severus kept his face impassive.

"Assaulting a student – any student – is a firing offense, as stated clearly in the terms of your employment as outlined in your contract. The deputy headmistress hastened to assure us that extenuating circumstances existed, and that you thus had just cause for the assault." His eyes flicked briefly to the parchment Minerva had sent before he continued, "Assuming that such 'just cause' does, in fact, exist, there remains the additional... hrm… _problem_ of the nature of the assault itself, which we understand to have been - " Here Pulsifer winced at the ceiling, sucking the air in through his teeth as if to filter some contamination, " - sexual."

The other governors shifted in their seats. Most had the decency to glance down, or at least to fix their eyes on some innocuous architectural detail, but a few turned to look directly at Hermione.

Minerva bristled, but Hermione sat calmly, looking only a little paler than usual.

Pulsifer glanced at Dumbledore, who gestured for him to proceed.

"Professor Snape, if you would please explain the circumstances that led to your assault on Miss… " he checked Minerva's letter again, "Granger?"

In evenly modulated tones, Severus spun a tale stretching back to the previous full moon, when he had begun to notice several extremely toxic and volatile ingredients missing from his private stores.

The gouty witch interrupted. "Your current post is Defense Against the Dark Arts, is it not?"

"Yes."

"Why, then, do you maintain a private store of dangerous potions ingredients at the school?"

Although neither his face nor his voice betrayed him, Severus was pleased with this question, as it indicated a rather unsophisticated line of reasoning. "I am often called upon to provide Madam Pomfrey with such elixirs and draughts as her more severe cases require."

"Yet Horace Slughorn is the current Potions master, is he not?" the witch countered.

Dumbledore spoke. "He is. But although he agreed to come out of retirement for a year, he preferred not to be taxed with these additional duties. Professor Snape agreed to continue them, despite the change in his teaching assignment."

Hildegrand nodded, apparently satisfied, and sat back in her chair. "Proceed, Professor Snape." She ignored the look Pulsifer shot at her.

Severus continued his tale, careful to select ingredients that made one or two of the governors blanch at their mere mention, ingredients that, after an intricate and dangerous brewing period, would theoretically produce a hybrid stimulant-love potion.

One or two of the governors nodded, as Severus had intended they do. The history of the school was rife with love potions gone awry.

"The Pandora Amorata potion is rarely attempted; its instructions are arcane at best and the ingredients so dangerous that any value the final product might hold is far outweighed by the risks involved in its preparation." Severus allowed himself to scowl. As if he were unable to censor his next comment, he sneered, "Similar effects could be obtained with less risk by crushing rose petals into a strong cup of tea. In the Potions community, Pandora Amorata is of some minor theoretical interest. It is only ever attempted by those with more brains than sense," he finished, shrugging slightly.

Hermione blinked. She had identified the potion he was describing almost as soon as he had started listing ingredients, and couldn't help but admire his logic and guile. She was not, however, expecting the veiled compliment.

A rather portly governor leaned slightly forward, adjusting his monocle. "That is all very well and good, sir, but you have yet to explain the assault."

Severus' lips thinned into a condescending smile. "As you say, Mr. Macmillan. There is a point during the brewing process when the fumes produce a potent airborne aphrodisiac. Miss Granger's unauthorized attempt - "

"In _your_ private lab, Snape." Pulsifer's eyebrows pointed at him accusingly.

Macmillan waved Pulsifer silent, and looked at Severus.

"Miss Granger's unauthorized attempt drew the attention of her friends. I assume that they followed her and, at their first opportunity, attempted discovery – an attempt that, had they lifted the lid, would certainly have affected everyone on the main levels of the castle." He paused to allow the thought of the near-miss to sink in.

The governors silently pondered why they might have been called to Hogwarts that night had events actually unfolded along the paths Severus was describing. The letters from parents in the next weeks, the next months… nine, give or take… As one, the Board shuddered, then heaved an almost audible sigh of relief.

"I happened by, heard her pathetic attempts to prevent someone's lifting a lid, and entered the lab." He paused, again for effect, then finished with the same description of the explosive conditions and the subsequent events he had described for Minerva.

The Board was silent for a few moments, looking at Hermione. She blushed and looked at her hands, letting her hair obscure most of her face.

Finally, Hildegrand sighed. "Was there no other way to prevent disaster, Professor?"

Severus winced in agreement. "Had there been an alternative course of action, I would of course have chosen it. Any alternative would have been preferable, but having only a split-second in which to divert their attention… " He closed his eyes in apparent revulsion.

"They must have been rather startled," Macmillan mused, beginning to chuckle.

Hildegrand glanced at Hermione, looking somewhat bemused and slightly sympathetic. "You do realize you have probably sacrificed any chance you may have had at making Head Girl."

Hermione swallowed, and stammered, "Y-yes, ma'am."

"I hope the boy you were after was worth this, dear?" the old witch said.

Minerva coughed. "Hildegrand, I must insist…"

"Yes, yes, Minerva. A hard lesson to learn so publicly. But one we all learn, eventually, eh?" She cast a knowing look at Minerva, who merely sniffed.

Pulsifer glanced around at the other Board members. "If there are no further questions?"

The governors shook their heads, and Pulsifer stood. "Professor Snape, Miss Granger, if you would excuse us briefly… "

"Please wait outside the door," Dumbledore said, gesturing them out. "Minerva, please stay," he added, as she rose to join the departing pair. "As Miss Granger's Head of House, your presence…"

The headmaster's voice was cut off as the office door closed, and Severus and Hermione found themselves alone at the top of the spiraling stair.

Severus watched it spiral downwards for a moment, then leaned on the wall, concealing his hands behind his back.

"P-" Hermione whispered, and his eyes cut hers, sharply, silencing her, then glancing meaningfully at the crack under the door.

A small pink string was unfurling, extending beneath it.

Her eyes widened and, despite the gravity of the situation and the nearly unbearable desire to speak to him, to apologize, to question – she would not think about how his hands had felt - her lips twitched at the thought of the august, stuffy Board of Governors patronizing Fred and George's joke shop.

When she was certain she would not laugh aloud, she dared look Severus in the eye again.

He was observing her, apparently calmly alert. "Dumbledore," he mouthed.

She nodded, seeing clearly the usefulness of Dumbledore's eccentricity. She had never been certain it wasn't a carefully crafted guise.

Watching her thoughts play across her unguarded features as she realized the nuances of the headmaster's subtlety, Severus' heart came to his throat. He gripped the top of the banister behind him, hard.

In her mind, he seemed to whisper, "The Great Hall - as soon as possible."

She nodded, and the presence in her mind was gone, and the both watched the stairs spiraling downwards.

After an excruciating half hour, Minerva opened the office door. She did not look especially pleased, but she said nothing as she gestured them in to stand before the headmaster's desk.

"Miss Granger," Pulsifer began formally, "although the Board is not unsympathetic to your… experiences… after Professor Snape's appearance in the Potions lab, it is frankly appalled at your presumption, and has recommended to your Head of House that you be punished as follows."

Hermione kept her feet planted firmly and tried to unlock her knees as she waited, dry-mouthed.

"That you be stripped of your prefect status and serve two months of detention, and that one hundred points be taken from Gryffindor. Your Head of House will make the final decision in consultation with the headmaster and with Professor Snape."

Hermione looked at the floor lest she reveal her relief at hearing the last name. _He won't be fired… he won't be fired… _

"Which brings us to you, Professor." Pulsifer glanced at Dumbledore. "Are you certain you wish Miss Granger to stay for this, Albus? It is most irregular."

"Quite certain, Pulsifer," Dumbledore said complacently. "I have often found that valuable lessons may be learned from observing the effects of one's behavior on others."

Hermione stood very still. Although Dumbledore's tone was quiet, she detected something behind his bland statement, some warning that the matter was far from settled in Dumbledore's mind.

Pulsifer's lips grew pinched. "Very well. Professor Snape, despite the timeliness of your intervention, you must understand that the strictures regarding your offense are quite clear. Although we are grateful for your efforts, we are nonetheless officially shocked and appalled by your immoral behavior."

"Heroic," Hildegrand insisted, gesturing with her walking stick.

"Immoral," Pulsifer repeated, more loudly. He was shaking, slightly, from repressed anger, and his volume increased with every word. "The ravaging of the innocent, however well-intentioned, must not be rewarded!"

"Ravaging," Severus repeated softly. His tone chilled the room as effectively as had he drawn a sword.

The Board of Governors fell silent, and even Dumbledore scarcely dared to breathe.

"If I may," Severus said quietly, gesturing to the room generally.

It was, strangely, Minerva who recovered first, and nodded.

"With all due respect, Governors, the distinction you draw between 'assault' and 'sexual assault' is spurious. Both are violent; neither should go unpunished. Especially when the victim is, as you so rightly note, relatively powerless."

The quiet menace that was Severus Snape's reputation and trademark left no one in the room unaffected, and there was a heavy silence.

His voice still soft, his words almost uninflected, he continued, "I would ask you, however, if Miss Granger is indeed as powerless as you would have her be."

All eyes turned to Hermione, who was trying desperately to figure out where his argument was heading and thus had no idea whether she should try to project power or the lack of it. She settled for not looking at him.

"Miss Granger," he said sharply, and she drew in an involuntary breath.

"Y-yes, sir?"

"Why did you not draw your wand? Were you aware," he continued even before she could inhale to make a response, "that the potion was, at that precise moment, at its most volatile, rendering the use of magic in the lab potentially fatal?" He looked intently at her, silently begging her to meet his eyes.

But she didn't. She was staring at her hands, her own eyes hidden by her hair, trying to figure out which answer he wanted her to give, which would best help him.

"Miss Granger," he said, sternly. "You will look at me when I speak to you. Surely you cannot expect the Board of Governors to believe you demure, after tonight's… incident?"

She did look at him then, a slight flush rising in her face.

Trying to ignore, in the moment, what he was doing to her, and hardening his heart against a growing ache, Severus carefully moved his eyes from side to side.

_Oh._ "I – I am sorry, sir. Governors." Drawing herself a little straighter, she said, "No, sir. I did not know that the use of magic was dangerous at that stage."

It was a tribute to her forbearers that Minerva was able to suppress her snort at the thought of Hermione Granger attempting any potion without knowing the instructions, their variants, and all relevant commentaries by heart before beginning.

"I thought not," he drawled, "as that particular portion of the instructions is written in Farsi. Do you speak Farsi, Miss Granger?"

Hermione shook her head, but her mind was amazed by his command and his subtlety, and she had to struggle to keep her admiration out of her eyes. She knew she was failing.

He opened his hands mockingly, and all eyes flew to him. "Do you read Farsi, then, Miss Granger?"

She shook her head, taking the moment his gesture had bought her to school her expression into something less transparent.

"Fifty points from Gryffindor for your dangerous innocence, Miss Granger," he growled.

Several governors – all of the Gryffindors and the one Hufflepuff – winced.

Severus continued. "As you did not, by your own admission, know the perils of using magic under those conditions, would you would be so kind as to enlighten us, Miss Granger, as to why did you not draw your wand to defend yourself from… ?" He could not bring himself to finish the question. Some lies just will not be spoken.

"I – I didn't think to, sir," Hermione said, hoping fervently that that was the answer he expected.

It was. He turned on the Board of Governors, his black cloak rippling dangerously, consuming more of the room than seemed strictly proper.

More than one pair of eyes widened, very slightly, in admiration.

"And it is your attitudes that have left her – and all of the young witches with whose instruction and care we are charged – so frighteningly unprepared to face reality."

"Really, Professor Snape," Pulsifer huffed. "Such matters are best left to…"

"To the parents?" Minerva sniffed. "Whom our students rarely see?"

Pulsifer turned an affronted face to the deputy headmistress, only to find himself prodded from yet another source.

"Hogwarts students are always in danger," Hildegrand announced, emphasizing her points by thumping her walking stick with phrase. "Dangerous plants. Potions. Hexes, jinxes, Dark creatures..."

"Even Quidditch," Macmillan added.

_Especially Quidditch,_ Hermione thought, watching Pulsifer's face jerk toward each speaker in turn until she thought his neck must snap under the strain.

Severus brought the moment to a close. "And yet, Governors, we fail our female students by cloistering them behind collapsing staircases, leaving them in these uncertain times as vulnerable, as defenseless, as Muggles." The menace in his tone grew beyond the scope of the headmaster's office to contain it. "Had my intention been to 'ravage' Miss Granger, I would have succeeded, and she would not have thought to stop me until after the deed was done."

Silence lingered, and then Hermione said simply, "He's right."

Dumbledore's voice broke the uncomfortable silence that followed Hermione's admission. "It seems that this incident serves to illustrate a real danger to our students – a danger which, as I think you will all agree, is not Professor Snape. His lack of options in dire circumstances may have proven beneficial to our students, in the end."

"Quite." Hildegrand thumped her stick once in agreement.

"Very well, then. Professor Snape, Miss Granger, that is all for tonight, I think," Professor Dumbledore said sternly. "You may go. Minerva, if you would please escort Miss Granger to her dormitory?"

Severus inclined his head sharply and made a deliberate exit, leaving the door open behind him. The edge of his cloak was already disappearing around a corner when Hermione and Minerva emerged in the corridor by the gargoyle.

They walked in silence toward Gryffindor Tower. They were over halfway there by the time Hermione's heart had calmed enough for her to realize that neither of them had been punished.


	4. Never Doubt

A/N: Ari: You first. TTFS: No, you. Ari: Grrr. TTFS: Together, then? "We'd like to thank the academy for giving Ariadne the summer off and corporate America for TimeTurnerforSale's spiffy new laptop." TTFS(elbows Ari in ribs). Ari: Oh, and the powers that be for not blowing my house down.

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**Never Doubt**

Hermione entered the Great Hall, opening the door only wide enough to allow herself to slip through. Long shadows crossed the hall, leaving vast expanses of darkness, blending into pale blue stripes of moonlight. The ceiling displayed a serene sky with overcast clouds, moving easily past star clusters. A few torches crackled at the far end near the High Table, giving the Hall a cathedral-like atmosphere.

The change from day to night was startling; the serenity a sharp contrast to the nonstop activity usually inhabiting the cavernous Hall. The silence only added to the almost prayerful mood, deep, demanding attention to one's thoughts.

She turned to close the door, cringing as the wood groaned on its hinges, relief washing over her as it clicked closed.

"Are you here?" she whispered, staring into the darkness. Her voice echoed louder than she expected.

A hand was over her mouth before she could turn around, clutching her and pulling her close. She reacted instinctively, throwing herself forward and driving her elbow down, then upwards into her assailant's ribcage.

The hand was gone and she heard a sharp hiss.

Spinning around, she drew her wand to find Severus clutching his side.

"Hardly the image of the defenseless victim - are you?" he muttered, the slightest tinge of pain masked as irritation in his voice.

Hermione held her hand over her heart as she tucked her wand away. "You surprised me. Are you all right?"

A slight scowl, then an expression of secrecy as he motioned her further into the Hall and pulled her into a deep shadow. The stone wall seeped a damp, cold draft; enveloping, drawing its cloak around them.

Hermione could barely see his eyes in the dim light. It was ever changing, rising in brightness just enough to allow details, then receding as another cloud passed over the moon.

He tilted his head down, looked at his side, then back to her. "Couldn't you have just hexed me? What kind of witch are you?"

"As I'm not allowed to hex people during the summer, I took some Muggle defense classes last year. I couldn't get to my wand and so I did the next best thing," Hermione said, trying both to keep the amusement out of her voice and to avoid staring at how the moonlight was shining on his hair, tingeing it blue.

"Indeed. So you could have inflicted damage to me in the lab after all," he said, crossing his arms.

Hermione shrugged.

"No explanation?" Severus said in sarcastic wonder. "Not possible. Tell me. What stopped you?"

"It's simple. I saw it was you," Hermione said and wished that her heart would settle down. It resolutely ignored her, and, out of spite, sped up to a manic pace when he leaned forward, his facing coming into the light.

Something in his eyes inspired hope, possibilities that could not be spoken.

Before she knew what she was doing, she placed a hand on his chest and her other on his cheek. Hesitantly, she trailed her finger to his lips, lingering, his heart proving to her that he was feeling more than the reserved exterior led her to believe.

Much more.

He stood, frozen. His hand rose a fraction, then settled back to his side, reluctantly. The clouds thickened, sweeping the shadows across his face as his eyes searched hers.

A plea, but for which action was the question.

Moving her hand aside, she gently pressed her lips to his, softly kissing him with as much tenderness as she could, trying to tell him that she cared, and had for a long time. Promising. He resisted at first, his shoulders stiffening; then, in infinitely small degrees, he raised his hands and tentatively placed them on her shoulders.

Slowly, she eased the kiss into gentle caresses, moving her hand through his hair, pausing to simply hover near him. His arms reached around her, lightly at first, then pulled her closer. The friction of his palm drawing up along the fabric of her robes, resting between her shoulders, opening, pressing her against his chest. She felt him tilt his head back and his breath hitch as he swallowed, hard, then he rested his chin on her head.

A leaning movement and then his voice vibrating against her hand as she fingered his coat buttons. "Why did you do it?"

Hermione leaned back, watching his eyes for a moment, shining by the light of the moon before it disappeared behind the clouds, plunging them into the cold darkness.

Burning the memory into that deep place she kept, knowing it would be fleeting.

He watched her, waiting. His hand covered hers on his chest.

"Because I knew you wouldn't."

"No. I wouldn't." He ran his hand down her back to rest, lightly, at her waist, his fingers working a fold of her robes back and forth between them as if of their own volition.

Some question hung palpably in the air.

"I cannot say whether I am glad of it or not," he mused, his fingers still playing at her waist. "I should not be."

"I was scared for you," she offered.

"No need," he said, still thinking.

"There was need. They were going to sack you."

The moon appeared from behind a shredded cloud for a moment, and she saw his lips twist in a dry smile. "I've faced worse." _And will again, soon._ "How did you get here?"

"Prefects' rounds. After Professor McGonagall left, and after everyone in the Tower was asleep."

"Were you seen?"

"Not even a ghost."

"The Board of Governors left an hour ago; still, we don't have much time."

"What do you mean?"

"After tonight, Hermione, we will be watched, constantly. Every student. Every teacher. Every portrait – all of them will be watching both of us for the slightest hint of impropriety." His tone grew bitter. "There is nothing small minds enjoy more than to have 'known it all along.' And there will be enough of that prattle without prior evidence; we must not give them more."

Hermione nodded.

His hand remained at her waist.

"At least we weren't punished," she said, then hastily added, "except for those fifty points."

"Which were rightly for Potter and Weasley, so I shall not retract them," he said. "I wasn't sacked, no, and I shall be very surprised if you don't continue as a prefect – although I shall rail against it in the staff lounge, of course. But we will be punished, all the same… The whole school knows now, or will by morning. Are you prepared for the whispering, for the taunts, for the horrified looks of your classmates and the other teachers? I assure you I have endured worse…" His tone changed as he looked at her face in the shadowy moonlight, "… but never for such a cause as this."

Almost reluctantly, as if he were losing some great battle, he drew her into the folds of his robe. "Never for such a cause as this."

Hermione found herself held so gently, so protectively, that she was awed. For a while they stood nearly motionless, aware of the feeling of the other, so close, warm against the empty chill of the deep shadows and slanting moonlight of the silently echoing Hall.

Closing her eyes and feeling the rough fiber of his robes against her face, Hermione found the courage to ask the question she'd wanted to ask since earlier, the question others had asked since, the question to which his public answer wasn't enough. "Why did you do it?"

He closed his eyes and sighed. "In the lab, you mean?"

She nodded.

"I had no time, Hermione."

"You could have just… slapped me, or something."

"No, I couldn't."

"Because Harry and Ron - " she felt his arms stiffen at the boys' names, but kept on " – because they would have hexed you, and the magic would have… ?"

"Partially. I am the Defense teacher, after all, and know that Potter, at least, has impressive reflexes. Which would have been my next answer, had the Board of Governors pursued that line of inquiry."

"It would have satisfied them, I think."

"But it doesn't satisfy you?" he asked softly, and something in his voice made her look up to see the corners of his eyes crinkling slightly.

"You did say 'Partially,'" she observed, a slight shyness overtaking her as she realized she was seeing, for the first time, an expression of tender amusement on his face – and that it was for her.

"I would never willingly raise a hand to you, Hermione," he said quietly.

She blinked, and looked at him questioningly, "But - "

"There is always a 'but' with you, isn't there?" he said, the crinkles around his eyes deepening.

She nodded, raising her chin slightly, and said, "But you told the Board of Governors that there should be no difference between - "

"Among acts of violence?" He sighed, drawing her closer, and resting his chin on her head, a few strand of her hair catching along his jaw. "There should be no difference in the punishment, Hermione, but there is in the crime." His voice sounded strangely hollow.

It took her a moment to realize that what she heard in his voice was experience.

"It need not concern you now," he said, after a moment.

"Now?" she asked softly.

"Someday," he replied. "But not now."

She looked a question at him.

"Tomorrow we will have to endure the punishment without having courted the crime." He looked at her, his eyes taking on a calm awareness that made her skin come alive.

Tracing a finger along her jaw, he murmured, "When I told them I would not ravage your innocence, Hermione, I was not being completely honest. I will not take it, but I will have it – if it is offered."

His words on her skin.

She opened her mouth to speak, but her breath caught in her throat as he ran his hand up her side, drawing her robes with it in a shimmering glide of fabric that he then let fall as his hand moved slowly up her back, to her neck, smoothing her hair aside, his palm firm but gentle on the side of her head, exposing her skin to his breath and the promise of his lips hovering, a small warmth that grew chill with each breath and then warmed again as he exhaled slowly.

And his hand trailed down her neck, catching her collar as he smoothed it downward between to her shoulder, coming to rest on her hip, a warm curve over her robes. He leaned into the feel of her, holding her closer, more deliberately.

He lowered his head down next to hers, hovering, his breath shuddering, on the fraying edges of control.

His voice so low it was barely above a whisper. "If you should offer it, Hermione, I will be honored beyond measure, and I will accept. No matter what happens, never doubt that. Never." He drew another breath, more ragged than the last. "But I beg you do not make me that offer tonight."

She marveled in the complexity of his gaze – a balm, a panic; serenity and steel.

"… I – I won't, of course," she said, her voice sounding distant through the pounding of her heart, "but - "

The corner of his mouth twitched.

" – but can I ask why not?"

Something in his eyes changed. In any other man, it would have been hope, but where there should have been hope, she saw something else entirely.

"I'm not arguing," she said quickly, daring to bring her hand to his cheek. "I'm just - "

"Because we did not court this crime and you are still my student."

"Oh," she said. Then, again, more softly, "Oh, of course."

He did not need the moonlight to see that she was blushing.

He closed his eyes and brushed his cheek against her palm, and instinctively her hand moved into his hair, bringing his lips to brush softly against the inside of her wrist.

She seemed to feel that one touch everywhere. And feeling the night slipping away from her, from them, she tentatively drew his face toward hers, her hand hesitant, her eyes determined.

"Don't," he said softly, even as he found his eyes closing, felt himself drawn nearer, his hands moving through her hair, gentle on her face -

"One more kiss," she whispered. "Just one."

He breathed her whisper into his own. "One."

One kiss - an unbearably brief, endless sweetness, hidden in the deepening clouds in the shadowed Great Hall in the deeper darkness of his cloak, a forbidden solace of being that began in lightness, softness, deepening at once to the feel of his hands on her face, on her shoulders, arms around her, fingers splayed on her back, dragging her toward him, her fingertips soft on his face, smoothing each angle, each plane, each texture in her hands drawing him closer, permanent, each breath, touch, movement bypassing conscious thought straight into timeless, endless memory.

"Hermione," he groaned, finally, holding them both still, resting his forehead, bent, against hers. "Hermione."

She closed her eyes against the air that was already cooling around them.

He kissed her once, gently on the forehead, and forced himself to loosen his arms. She looked up and saw that his eyes were fathomless – with hope, despair, or… _love?_ … she couldn't tell. A long look, a long silence, then, with a catch in his voice, his voice almost pleading: "Never doubt, Hermione."

By the time she found her voice, he was striding out of the Hall, the mask of his purpose redrawn on his posture.

"Never," she echoed, her voice too loud as he rejoined the darkness beyond the doors.

She didn't know if he'd heard her.

-----

The next day, she learned from Professor McGonagall that she would not lose her prefect's badge.

In the next weeks, she only saw him in class and at mealtimes. No hint of impropriety could be detected in either one of their faces, words, or postures. And everyone, from Peeves to Mrs. Norris to Professor McGonagall, kept a sharp lookout.

For the next two months, Hermione served detentions with Professor Flitwick, and Harry and Ron seemingly couldn't enter Professor Snape's classroom without losing 30 points from Gryffindor – points which Hermione quietly earned back from Professor McGonagall for exemplary performance of her prefect's duties, in exactly the right number to ensure that Gryffindor remained down by 50 points precisely.

And at the end of those two months, Severus killed Albus Dumbledore.

-------------------------

Hermione sat stiffly in the darkening kitchen, trying to pay attention to what her mother was saying, but not absorbing a word. Her mother's voice moved through her subconscious mind, filtering to the forefront, then back, the thoughts overrunning her words.

_Him. Why? Was it all a lie?_

"Hermione?"

Her mother was leaning forward, lowering her head in an attempt to catch Hermione's gaze. A concerned expression darkened her face, the lines around her eyes deepening.

"Yes?"

"You're not listening. How is it that your headmaster was murdered? Hermione, I'm sorry, but your father and I - we feel you should stay away..."

Again, she let her thoughts override her mother's voice.

Hermione then felt herself stand, stride to the front door and announce in a removed voice, "I'm taking a walk."

A light misting rain fell, giving the dusk a strange, ominous feel. Hermione allowed her mind to analyze the events, the hows and the whys, and, finding nothing, an open question. She hunched her shoulders up around her ears, and pushed her hands further into her pockets. Watching the pavement, she occupied her mind with the cracks, recording how much they varied in length as she walked.

Walking with no destination in mind for what seemed hours, Hermione returned to her house in a more distraught state than when she left. As she approached, a strange looking owl sat on her mailbox, its head swiveling around, searching. When it caught sight of her, it hooted at her impatiently, as if ordering her to hurry up.

Looking the owl over, Hermione mumbled, "Definitely not a school owl."

The owl glared at her and ruffled its feathers, as if insulted. It thrust its leg out proudly, regarding her with a disdainful eye. Clearly, it had better things to do than to attend to her and her assumptions about its origin and quality.

Opening the parchment, she found only two words in familiar red ink.

"Spinner's End."

Hermione's eyes read and re-read the short phrase until she realized that the owl was still watching her. Walking quietly around to the back door of the house, the owl ghosting silently behind her, she let herself into the dark kitchen, leaving the door open behind her.

_Lumos_, she muttered, reaching for a glass to get some juice for the owl.

It sat on the table and glanced at the juice, then appeared to scowl at her.

"All right, I believe you're his," she said softly, her eyes falling on a note in her mother's handwriting on the counter.

"We've gone to bed, dear - we'll talk in the morning. Don't stay up too late.

I'm worried about you. Wake me if you want to talk.

Love, Mum."

Hermione held the note from Professor Snape – _No longer_ – in one hand, the note from her mother in the other.

The owl looked at her impatiently.

Hermione crumpled both notes in her fists and moved as quietly as she could for the bookshelves in the hallway, where she pulled out a travel atlas and ran her finger down the index until she located Spinner's End near Manchester. She replaced the volume carefully and went back to the kitchen.

"Well, owl," she whispered. "I can get to the street, but you'll have to take me from there."

The owl looked for all the world as though it had taken her far too long to come up with the right answer. It might have been a trick of the wand light, but she could have sworn it raised an eyebrow at her.

The owl preceded her into the dark car park outside the kitchen, and waited while she quietly latched the door.

She concentrated,

_Destination, determination... _

The owl landed on her shoulder and dug its talons in, hard.

..._ Dratted owl!_ She glared at it, sure it had drawn blood, and started over.

_Destination, determination... _

-----

With a soft _Pop!_ she appeared in Spinner's End.

While the rain on Hermione's street had cast a dismal pall, it created a veritable scene of utter despair on Spinner's End. Nothing could convince her that anyone normal, or even on the lighter side of darkness, called such a place home. The very architecture exuded a presence, a long-abandoned power; as if decay were a poison that could change stone or brick.

She had almost forgotten the owl until it shifted its talons on her shoulder. A soft sweep of a wing across her face and the owl took flight, sinking low, then high, to land on a lamppost. Hermione slowly walked onto the pavement, staring up to where the owl sat. It puffed its feathers out in irritation before shaking the rain drops in a fine spray, disturbing the rhythmic rainfall.

The owl suddenly screeched at her, throwing its wings out to full span and beating them wildly. It held onto the lamppost with its talons and cried over and over, glaring directly at her.

Hermione stood under the dim light, staring up at the distressed owl. It stepped around so it could lean down, continuing to cry out to her. The beating of its wings caused the lamppost to sway, moving the light in a rocking motion over the pavement.

Its eyes bore into hers, as if the fact that its message was not getting through was causing it physical pain.

"What is it?" she said, holding her hands out, the rain soaking her coat sleeves, gradually darkening the fabric. She had kept her wand out, figuring that in such a deserted place, no Muggle happening by in such a place would think her strange.

The rain fell out of the dark and through the light, giving the illusion of speed as she stared up at the frantic owl.

Sweeping her coat to the side, the wind surged as if in sympathy with the owl's cries. She looked at the houses, sure that its noise would awaken anyone still living there.

Nothing stirred.

Hermione dropped her hands to her sides and twisted around to look back down the street. A movement caught her eye, low, around a rambling hedge, then it was gone, a shadow rocking in the wind.

The owl fell silent.

Her mind had barely registered the sound of a cloak before her world went black. Her throat was caught in the crook of someone's arm, and a hand gripped her mouth with such force it was impossible to create a sound.

Her wand, somehow she had lost it. She struggled to somehow get her arm free...

A feral snarl in her ear commanded, "Don't."

She was dragged backwards, covered in heavy, black wool.

Her coat sleeve snagged on something. _Rough brick_, her mind supplied. The rain beat on the cloak, a muffled vibration.

Spun around and shoved up against the wall, she felt her coat catch against the uneven masonry and get dragged up her back. She tried to twist her head to the side, but the hand returned, hard fingers gripping her jaw tightly. The air under the cloak was rapidly becoming hot.

He was breathing hard, his chest pressed up against her telling her his heart was beating wildly too, yet his exterior demeanor remained calm.

She opened her eyes wide, trying to see his face. To confirm what she already knew.

Only the passing glittering of his eyes in front of her, a brush of hair against her cheek as he lowered his head to hers. His hand passed lightly down her side - hesitantly - distracted.

Hermione froze and the hand over her mouth slowly loosened - then disappeared.

An overpowering presence pushed to the edge of her mind, where it wavered, almost apologetically, as if awaiting permission.

_"They are here. Quiet."_

A question in her mind. She wanted to ask, but didn't know how. The image made her ill to even think of it.

_It couldn't be..._

An answer before she even attempted the question...

_"The Dark Lord."_


	5. Ancestral Ashes

A/N: In which TimeTurnerforSale fic-hijacked (Ariadne: You did NOT; I was swamped!) and Ariadne stepped in with the occasional moment.

* * *

**Ancestral Ashes**

Hermione gasped and pressed herself back against the wall, her heart contracting painfully. Her hand dropped to her side, her fingers nervously tracing the join of the brick wall.

_"Be ready to run." _

"Yes."

Severus turned his head, listening.

The rain beat on the cloak, growing louder, angrier, until the wind swept it to a different angle, disappearing.

Just when she was becoming desperate for fresh air, the cloak was ripped aside and she found that they were in a narrow alleyway between two blocks of row homes. Severus grasped her by the wrist and pulled her toward the back, around to a yard that had not known a gardener in decades. Stumbling over shrubbery that had run rampant, he found a back door ajar, pushed it wide open and pulled her inside.

Standing in the kitchen, Severus stared toward the front of the house, distractedly holding her hand in his. It might have resembled an act of affection, but the almost painful grip he had on her hand indicated otherwise. The lamppost outside projected a swaying rectangle of light onto the sitting room floor, illuminating the heavy dust in the air.

Hermione stared up at him, at the cut of his jaw, how he was watching, holding her partially behind him. The twitch in his muscles and how he held his wand told her that he was on a ragged edge. He didn't seem to be breathing.

The sudden screeching began again, cutting through the silence. Instantly, Severus had his cloak thrown over her, pulling her to the floor. They lay in the doorway to the sitting room, holding the cloak up just enough to see.

The shadow of the owl, its wings held straight out, was projected onto the sitting room floor, a tattered rug its background. Its head was thrown back as it called again and again.

Hermione touched Severus' neck in the darkness and almost drew back when she felt his warmth.

"What is wrong with your owl?" she whispered.

Severus curled his arm over her and took a deep breath. "He is trained to call."

"A guard owl? Really."

They heard voices outside, nearly unintelligible against the owl's continued protests. Hermione heard Severus' name mentioned in a cold, vicious voice, and a chorus of agreement.

They both recoiled as green light filled the room, accompanied by violent laughter and curses. Hermione turned her head to see a shadow pass through the light on the floor and soar upwards.

"Find him!" a voice commanded – a voice not only of sound, but a screaming through her mind.

Hermione's throat constricted, and Severus' hand was immediately over hers.

Sounds of Apparition filled the air, followed by a hollow silence.

The sliding of the cloak over her, letting the chill rush in to prick her skin.

Reality.

They both sat up, looking at each other in the dim light, not bothering to attend to the tendrils of cobwebs covering both of them.

"It's you they're looking for," she said fearfully. Literally shaking.

His eyes held a haunted, empty expression. Heavy, knowing too much.

His head angled down.

"What have you done?" she breathed.

"Everything," he said, watching his hand moving through her hair and down to her shoulder, "and nothing."

Hermione shook her head. "You're not answering me."

"There is hardly time to explain fully," Severus said, his eyes alert, passing over the darkened room.

Hermione reached out and put a hand against his chest. "Tell me."

"To address the most pressing issue at the moment, I have been found out. If there is such a thing as a traitor to both sides, than I am fit to wear that title."

Her eyes flicked back and forth as her mind raced. "The potion?"

Severus nodded, and took what seemed to be his first breath since Hermione had appeared in the middle of Spinner's End.

"The Dark Lord was displeased to find that not only had Draco failed in his task, but also that I had nothing other than notes to show for months of work. They captured Slughorn last night and forced him, under the Imperius, to analyze my work. I was warned by Draco that my obvious sabotage of the research was exposed no more than an hour ago. I destroyed everything."

She stared at him, unmoving. How close they had come to it becoming reality.

"I sent the message to you before I knew. I apologize. I had no idea."

Hermione touched his hand, thinking morbidly about the conversation still to come. Looking toward the front window, she asked, "Is it…?"

"Safe now? I don't know."

"Why is this whole area deserted? I mean-"

"Aside from the fact that it is hardly a delightful neighborhood? The water is poisoned."

"How?" she started then received her answer in a simple lift of his eyebrow.

Sighing, she tilted her head and listened with him for a moment. Just as they were about to relax, faint voices could be heard, far away. Growing louder.

Suddenly, an explosion rocked the entire block of houses. A gray shower of dust rained down on them from the upper floor, settling, only to start up again as several lesser explosions rang out from farther down the street. Shrill laughter filtered in amongst the noise of various materials being blown apart.

The rectangle on the sitting room floor began to change from cool blue to warm, flickering orange.

Hermione was shocked to hear Severus groan.

"What is it?"

"That would be my house burning down."

"Lovely," Hermione muttered.

More sounds of Apparition and laughter, another explosion, brightening the orange to a fierce red.

Hermione and Severus sat motionless, listening for a time as silence fell. When the owl reappeared, sweeping up to resume its position, Severus stood slowly and approached the front window, glancing up at the owl who regarded him serenely in return. Severus leaned forward, turning to look down the street, his expression unreadable.

Unable to find words, Hermione could only watch him, the reflection of the flames illuminating his face, casting shadows. His hand had been brushing off his coat, but now slowed to a stop, his palm still against his chest.

When he spoke, it was with a slow reverence, distant, nothing more than a breath. "My library."

Hermione looked down at the floor, covered in a thick layer of dust, disturbed where Severus' cloak had cut a wide path when it had dragged behind him to the window.

Absently, Severus went to the front door, opened it, and stepped outside, leaving a wide rectangle of warm color on the wall, wavering, falling then climbing higher, smaller points of light flying above the edges.

A heavy scent in the air.

Burning books.

Hermione rose from the floor and took slow, careful steps to stand in the doorway, her breath catching in her throat at what she saw.

Severus stood in the middle of the street, seemingly in a daze, staring toward a row house that was fully engulfed in flames. The rain, cruelly, had stopped, allowing sparks to rise in the air, flying on the turbulent wind. A multitude of pages, some alight, swayed and turned over, surrounding Severus as he moved closer. Books were strewn everywhere, charred, torn to pieces, the only occupants of the house, resembling something disturbingly close to dead bodies. Every time the wind picked up, more sparks and flaming bits of paper took flight, showering Severus, catching in his robes, before dying.

Hermione stepped out into the sidewalk, her heart breaking at the sight.

His cloak rippled to the side as he continued to walk closer, coming to a stop dangerously close to the flames, observing in a silent vigil, knowing there was nothing that could be done.

The owl swept past him, its wings spread wide, lifting higher, disappearing over the roof of the house and seemingly into the flames themselves.

Hermione drew closer to him, unable to think of a single thing to say. Losing even one book was a tragedy she didn't want to imagine, let alone a library that must have taken generations to accumulate. Her hand touched his, lightly, offering some sort of gesture, knowing that words now would be a curse rather than a blessing. Reluctance - she could feel it, his wanting to be left alone, to watch, to mourn in peace. Bringing her hand upwards, she touched his palm, then slipped her hand around his, watching his profile, the warmth of the flames around them.

They stood, quietly, the sound of the crackling flames the only sound.

A groaning preceded the house's final collapse, heart-wrenching to watch. The upper floor fell inward, dragging the roof down into the house. Flames drove higher into the night sky as the fire found even more fuel to burn, windows simply shattering out onto the front pavement. When the leaning began, Hermione tightened her grip on his hand, her other coming to join it, grasping his forearm. A loud moaning; slow, holding on until the last moment before gravity took hold and the entire front of the structure disintegrated into a tangled pile.

Hermione slipped her hand up Severus' arm, trying to get him to back out of the way, the burning wreckage surrounding them now, the flames were spreading to the adjacent homes. Far away in the distance, she heard the wail of sirens. The Muggles would be there soon.

He stood his ground, ignoring her, his eyes lifting to the top of the burning mountain of twisted wood.

Hermione froze as the owl rose up over the flames and soared on soft wings to land on Severus' shoulder.

It had saved one book.

Severus stood, staring bleakly at the inferno, his eyes empty, reflecting the flames as the sparks of his home spiraled upward toward the indifferent muted-orange sky. A charred page, carried outwards toward them by the waves of heat emanating from the glowing timbers brushed his cheek.

He didn't blink.

_He's in shock,_ Hermione thought wildly, realizing that he had no more awareness of her than of the owl's talons on his shoulder.

"Your owl..."

No response.

"Um…"

Nothing. She had no idea what she was supposed to call him.

"Erm... Professor?" she whispered.

He turned his head slightly, his lips twisting in a bitter mockery of his former sardonic smirk.

"Your owl - the book - don't you want to know which-" Despite the conflagration before them, the fact that Severus stood bereft at her side, and the dawning realization that they had nowhere to go and very little time to get away, Hermione could not silence the dry, insistently curious part of her mind that was itching to relieve the owl of its burden.

When he spoke, his voice carried with it an echo as if of a tremendous abyss. "I know which book he carries. He is very well trained."

"Of course."

Severus' eyes raked the scene, reflecting the spectrum of flames one last time, before Hermione saw something deaden in his eyes.

Hearing her involuntary breath, he reached for her hand. As the sirens of the Muggle vehicles grew louder on the night air, he turned to her, eyes still empty, he said, simply, "Come."

And Hermione felt her stomach wrench as she was pulled into the compression of Side-Along Apparition.

---------------------------------------------------

His arm was still around her, holding her close as the spinning subsided. It was raining wherever they were, increasing in ferocity, a gusting wind forcing the rain onto them as if angry at their sudden appearance. His cloak, soaked now, was over her again, hanging heavy as they walked. Watching the cobblestones in the sparse light, neatly set, then oddly shaped, deteriorating into random, mismatched pieces laid at strange angles. All black.

_Knockturn Alley?_

Suddenly the rain, wind and cloak were all swept aside and they were in a deeply recessed doorway. A lone streetlight further along the alley gave a sickly yellow glow, flickering each time the wind surged. Not a soul was in sight, but Hermione knew that if they were where she thought, the inhabitants were never eager to be seen.

Hermione took in the sight of Severus, standing, his head leaning back against the stone archway, the same haunted light in his eyes. His hair hung in strings around his face, some stretching across his forehead. Before she knew what she was doing, she reached up and first touched his face, then trailed her fingers across his chin. When he looked at her, his eyes tracked her movements as she drew her hand up along his cheek and up into his hair, smoothing it back. Her other hand found its way to his chest, pressed over his heart.

"I'm sorry-" she barely whispered, then added, "Severus."

His eyes slipped closed, then open again. An acknowledgment without words. Without invitation or permission, Hermione reached for his hand and pulled him into an embrace.

His body relaxed by degrees into the feel of her, real, warm, _Here._ His arms came around her, drawing her closer, trapping her hand between them. He rubbed his cheek across her forehead, her long hair slick with rain, catching on his skin, and he exhaled, slowly, into the night. "Hermione," he breathed, running his hands firmly up her back, her neck, into her hair, easing her face up toward his.

Within the deep recesses of his haunted eyes, she saw something rekindle - the awareness, the emotional discipline, the iron restraint that had kept him alive – marked for death by both sides; stalked from within his own mind by what he had done, been forced to do. As he lowered his lips to hers, as her eyes closed and she felt her awareness narrow to the moment and the man in her arms, she knew that within his eyes she had just witnessed another in a long series of battles between determination and despair – the battles on which the hope of their world depended.

He tasted the salt of his own denial on her lips, and after a brief, almost rushed moment in which he revealed and then banked his desire, he reluctantly gentled the kiss and stroked her hair. Even in the shadowed recesses of the doorway, Knockturn Alley was no place to lower one's defenses, and… his hand was lost in her hair, and he sought her eyes, warm brown, open, an eager innocence and a smoky question… _No,_ he thought, schooling himself to remember their surroundings.

"Hermione," he said, his voice rasping, "stay close, under my cloak. We have one more jump to make. A short one, this time."

Still breathless, she nodded. "Where are we going?"

Before she was aware of it, they were on the other side of the door.

An old woman with long stringy hair sat muttering, hunched over a cauldron on the hearth. Backlit by the glow of a meager fire in a large, almost castle-sized fireplace, her features were scarcely visible the dim light of a few taper candles and a pale green glow emanating from a shelf of flasks that ran the length of the long, low-ceilinged room.

Instinctively, Hermione stiffened, and her hand flexed for her wand.

Severus reached for her hand and grasped it firmly, half reassurance, half warning.

Without looking up, the old woman ceased her muttering and sat, stirring, in silence.

Finally, she set the long spoon down on the hearth and straightened up painfully.

Turning toward them, she spoke, her tone appraising. "And what is it that _you_ want?"

Hermione barely had time to register that the woman's tone was somehow familiar before Severus said, "I'd like you to meet my grandmother."


	6. Reluctant Relations

* * *

Disclaimer: All characters belong to the great JKR. No money, fame or glory being made here.

_AN: In which TimeTurnerforSale is still fic-hijacking (AriadneAWS: You did NOT; I'm still swamped!) and AriadneAWS stepped in with the occasional moment._

* * *

**Reluctant Relations**

Hermione could only stand, shocked as the old woman set her hands on her hips and glared disapprovingly at them. The notion that Severus had any living family, or, for that matter, had ever been anything but the man next to her was something that she was not prepared for. Coming out of her thoughts, Hermione realized the old witch was looking her over appraisingly.

"Grandmother, this is Hermione Granger," Severus said, giving her hand a firm squeeze before releasing her and stepping forward.

"Ah, yes..." the old woman said, snatching a gnarled cane from beside the hearth and moving slowly towards them. Each strike of the cane against the floor echoed off of the walls, disturbing the rhythmic sound of the bubbling potion. Her gaze traveled from Hermione to Severus. "Muggle-born, I see, but has her wits about her, this one."

As Hermione wondered how Severus' grandmother could know she was Muggle-born just by looking at her, Severus scowled and attempted to head off the conversation from the direction it was about to take, stating, "I will require a place to stay, and a lab."

The cane tapped the floor again as his grandmother turned from him, walked to a far window and pushed it open. An owl wedged its way through the slim opening and hopped onto a nearby table, ruffling its wings irritably.

"Well," she huffed, "It seems you've already assumed as much, sending the owl along." Her thin fingers scratched the owl's back, examined a few feathers, then paused.

At her questioning expression, Severus nodded with grim sincerity. "Burnt to the ground."

Hermione watched the two of them. Any other family would have consoled each other, showed that they were glad that they were safe. Not here. Severus and his grandmother discussed the burning of the library that must have been in the family for generations as if it were a business deal - devoid of emotion.

With a disappointed shake of her head, the old woman made her way back across the room, angrily pounding her cane on the floor. Stopping in front of Severus, she looked up at him and set her jaw. "The back rooms are empty, the storeroom is full and you may work in the lab Eileen used," she announced, with obvious reluctance. Her eyes slid towards Hermione. "This one too?"

Severus nodded. "She will be assisting me."

Hermione hid her surprise and tried to avoid the old woman's glare by watching the owl swivel its head to preen, apparently affronted, attempting to clear the burnt parchment and singed feathers from its wings and back.

After a moment in which the old woman considered, her critical eye moving from Severus to Hermione several times, she stated, "This concerns the potion, no doubt?"

Severus nodded. "It does," he replied, handing her the book saved from the fire.

Hermione could see now that it was a log book used for potions experiments, similar to the ones used in class. This one, however, seemed to be hundreds of years old, and embossed with a family crest.

Taking the book, the old woman turned and hobbled towards the hearth where a few small threadbare chairs sat, huddled in a semi-circle around a small table. Severus gestured that Hermione should follow, placing his hand on her shoulder and giving her a reassuring nod when she looked at him questioningly.

The old witch set the book on the table, muttered a spell and waited as it opened in response, flipping its pages obediently to a list of ingredients. With a frown, she dragged her nail down the page, pausing and mumbling to herself whenever she found something difficult to obtain, shaking her head at times and glancing up at Severus with a scowl before returning to the list.

Finally, she swept her hand to the side and the book snapped closed.

She turned and placed her hands over the handle of her cane and leveled a serious eye at Severus. He merely raised an eyebrow in question, awaiting her response. A moment of silence passed between them before she nodded as if a decision had been made. With another sweep of her hand, a tea set appeared on the table and a cloak flew from another room to her waiting hand.

Wrapping the cloak around her, she started for the door, stating over her shoulder, "You are in need of a great deal of ingredients."

Hermione swore the woman moved faster once the cloak was around her, stabbing the cane forcefully onto the floor with each stride, the garment moving out in a dramatic current behind her. Without another word, she set off into the night and slammed the door behind her.

Hermione was unconsciously eyeing at Severus' cloak when he startled her by saying, "I believe a discussion is in order."

"Yes, of course," Hermione said, moving to take a seat at the small table. Her chair creaked loudly and shifted, revealing its advanced age. Severus removed his cloak, draped it over his chair and sat across from her.

The owl took silent flight, sweeping to land on the arm of Severus' chair as he leaned forward and handed Hermione her tea. She watched as Severus laid a hand on the owl and muttered a spell; removing the singed and soot-covered feathers and revealing its true mottled gray color. In place of appreciation, the owl appeared insulted - as if Severus had been negligent in not performing his duty sooner. It turned its head and glared at Hermione before taking flight and landing near the front window. With careful steps, it pushed its way through the ragged curtain, shifted itself into the corner of the windowsill, folded its wings determinately - and waited.

The sound of the crackling wood and simmering potion created a soothing rhythm, but the air was full of deep questions. Hermione searched for the right words to begin, wanting to confirm what her heart was telling her. The truth. What had to be.

"Why did you come?"

Hermione blinked at first, but then abandoned propriety and looked him in the eye. "I trusted you."

"And now?"

Hermione set her tea cup down and leaned forward in her chair, elbows on her knees, her hands clasped together. After a moment, she responded, "You said never to doubt."

Severus turned his cup around in his hands, gripping it with a thumb over the rim. "I did."

"You helped Dumbledore destroy the ring."

A flicker in his eyes told her she was correct. "Yes."

"He was dying. Wasn't he?" she said. "You kept him alive so he could pass his knowledge on to Harry, only you already knew everything, didn't you?"

"Not everything, no. Dumbledore was not so careless as to trust all of his knowledge to one person. Neither is the Dark Lord."

Disappointment crossed her face, softly, a light pattern as changing as the flames that were rising around the cauldron. "So you don't know where the remaining Horcruxes are?"

"No," Severus said with a sigh. "I haven't been part of the inner circle for some time. My only contribution was to brew the potion. And now..."

Hermione looked at him gravely. "Now you are a traitor to both sides."

Severus nodded.

Silence passed while Hermione contemplated. Part of her wondered how it felt to be marked for death, no matter which side found him. The concept of bravery filtered past - how, in its highest form, the quality is never recognized.

Setting her tea down, she turned the cup on its saucer as she thought, listening to the sound of the rough ceramics grinding against each other. Holding her palm over the cup, feeling the heat trapped under her hand, her thoughts settling, then turning back onto themselves.

His voice brought her back, clear and final: "No." Her eyes met his as he said, "He would not have survived that night."

Hermione hung her head, staring at the floor for a time. Knots of wood cracked in the fire and the potion seemed to be bubbling louder, following some mysterious but specific pattern.

"Did he -," she started, then collected her thoughts. "He ordered you to do it then?"

Severus remained silent.

When he didn't respond, she raised her head and found him watching her.

"What do you believe?"

"I believe that there was some reason. Something you discussed beforehand."

Severus stood abruptly and turned towards the hearth.

Hermione watched as Severus leaned over the potion, touching the stirring rod and busying himself for a time - counting.

Just as she thought he wouldn't respond, Severus said clearly, "Albus knew he was dying. I revealed to him early in the school year that the Dark Lord had tasked Draco with something and that I was bound to complete it should he fail."

Shifting in her chair, Hermione could see the tension rise in his back as he tilted his head and raised a ladle full of potion, turned it, and let the contents fall back into the mist. He repeated the motion a second, a third and then a fourth time, his shoulders tightening with each tilt of the ladle.

Hermione remained still, watching his fingers twisting around the ladle's handle as his words descended further into the darkness of despair and regret.

"Neither of us knew at the time that the task was murder. Even so, Albus made me swear that if the time ever came, that I would carry it out and preserve my position as spy... and now..."

The sound of the ladle hitting the stone floor echoed even before Hermione registered its flight across the room. It bounced and skittered over the rough stone, spinning across the floor before coming to rest.

Severus raised his arms and gripped the mantle, his fingers spread, driving into the rough wood. The owl's head appeared from between the curtains, shooting an accusatory glare at Hermione. It ruffled its wings, beating the curtain into motion before slipping back and settling back to its post.

Hermione froze, watching Severus' coat stretch across his back as he lowered his head and stared into the flames, as if he bore the weight of the world on his shoulders, with no end in sight.

"I have failed."

Her heart seized at the pain in his voice. Not because it was real or even expected - but because it was true.

For a moment, Hermione stood silently, staring at his silhouette against the flames, absorbing the enormity of what he'd just told her. Then, moving carefully, as if a single too-loud footstep would shatter some fragile but vital part of the man before her, she drew even with him at the hearth.

He glanced sideways at her through his falling hair, and she nearly choked at the intensity of self-loathing she saw in his eyes.

"Severus," she said quietly. "You told me to believe in you, no matter what happened, and I have - against all logic, against all reason, against my friends and even my parents, I've had faith in you."

Very carefully reaching out, she placed one hand on his elbow, the wool uncomfortably hot against her skin, she continued, "I still do."

Turning his head slightly, Severus' eyes searched hers, calculating, determining the truth of her intent. Finally, he reached out and took her hand gently, as if she might flee at any moment, or as if he thought she should. "I shouldn't have drawn you into this. It is nothing more than a path to certain destruction," he said, raising his eyes to meet hers.

"I make my own choices, Severus," she said in a hushed voice, venturing to touch his face, "or haven't you noticed?"

The corner of his mouth twitched at the memory of her kiss in the lab. A lifetime ago. Both the beginning and end for them both. Even though his words spoke of regret in involving her, he knew in the depths of his selfish and long-cold heart that he was not sorry.

Drawing her to him slowly, he traced a circle on her back, pressing his palm flat, feeling the friction of her clothing under his hand as he completed the pattern. The heat from the flames made his left side almost unbearably hot while his right was cold. A severe contrast which seemed ironically appropriate.

Hermione rested her head against his chest, listening to his heart. Curling her hand under her chin against him, she wrapped her arm around his waist and simply allowed him to hold her. When he relaxed a slight degree, she smiled gently and moved her hand to touch a button on his coat, turning it a little between her fingers.

His voice almost startled her, rising in a deep rumble within him, "Thank you."

A simple phrase, often spoken. Part of the mundane interaction common to everyday life but, at some times, profound.

Hermione knew that not only was it difficult for Severus to admit that he needed anyone, but that it was also an admission of a partnership. It was as if the very air changed around them, charged with the need to craft a plan, to move forward.

She lifted her head and found him already looking down at her. Making no move to shift away, she raised her hand to his cheek, her thumb tracing his cheekbone slowly, remembering. Her heart constricted at the pained way he closed his eyes, as if he was still reluctant to believe she was there, for him, of her own free will.

Leaning forward, she hovered just shy of his lips, whispering, "I trust you."

He stood, lips parting, but not making any movement towards her. His hand had ended its travels on her back and now tightened so that her shirt was twisted in his fist, shaking slightly.

A decision made, a path chosen, with felled trees blocking any retreat, he closed the gap to touch her lips to his.

A single piercing cry spun around the room, seemingly coming from all directions. The owl had taken flight, flailing the tattered curtains aside and heading straight for Severus' shoulder, just as his lips touched hers.

Instead of a kiss, Hermione felt Severus draw breath sharply between clenched teeth as the owl landed on his shoulder, driving its talons into him and throwing its wings out for balance.

Hermione's wand was out a fraction after Severus' as they stood staring towards the front door. Severus threw his hand out and extinguished the torches, leaving the glowing hearth as the only light. He then directed the owl to fly to the door, sent Hermione a glance directing her towards the opposite side of the room, and slipped into the darkness.

A wavering image was visible through the warped glass, giving the impression that something was swimming underwater. It passed by the window, illuminated by failing moonlight. The distinct shape of a hand against the glass, palm splayed open and pressed flat.

Hermione stood in the dark and watched, her wand clutched tightly in her hand. The hand on the glass remained for a moment, and then its outline became larger, darker, less solid. It was then that Hermione realized she was seeing blood.

The hand disappeared and at the same moment a sound came at the door.

It wasn't a knock, more like a solid mass falling against the door. The wood cracked loudly in protest, offering up a last groan before falling silent.

Finding a combination of instinct and adrenaline driving her, Hermione approached from the right, keeping to the edge of the shadows. She looked across the room to where Severus loomed, his eyes glittering, fixed on the door. His jaw was set, eyes watching with rapt attention, sending her memory flashing to earlier in the abandoned house.

They both flinched when a sliding sound, accompanied with a horrific groan came from the other side.

The door handle slipped to the side then, and, being locked, snapped back upwards with authority.

Hermione was stunned when Severus straightened up, strode towards the door and threw it open.

Her first thought was that, whoever it was, their hair was orange, then the horrible truth struck her.

Falling to the floor in a broken heap was Draco Malfoy, and his head, along with the rest of him, was completely covered in blood.

Severus' eyes swept the alley for any signs that Draco had been followed. Seeing none, and sending the owl back to its position, he dropped to one knee to pick up the injured young wizard.

Draco's head lolled back as Severus stood and kicked the door shut with a booted foot. Nodding to Hermione to follow, he muttered an incantation and a yawning archway appeared in one wall. Hermione hesitated only a moment - the stones in the arch were cracked, and the mortar between them crumbling - then she raced up the darkened stairs of the passage.

Stooping in the low passage, Severus had taken the stairs two at a time and had already deposited Draco's unmoving body on a narrow cot by the time Hermione entered the small garret chamber.

"Ground Hellebore. Quickly," Severus muttered, reaching into his robes for a vial.

After Hermione's quick nod and departure, Severus slipped his hand under Draco's neck, his jaw tightening slightly at the sight of blood pouring from a ragged head wound. Lifting Draco's head gently, Severus tipped the vial's contents into Draco's mouth while murmuring a soft incantation.

Draco's chest rose in jerking fits, each breath a wretched exercise in blinding pain. _Broken ribs_, Severus thought as he continued his murmuring. Draco moaned, as if suffering some terrible nightmare, repeating the word "No" in an endless stream, then baring his teeth from the pain of each ragged breath.

Severus had managed to open the torn and bloodied shirt part way when Draco's arm shot out and twisted over in his robes with wild desperation.

"Slughorn!" Draco gasped, shaking his hand and attempting to pull Severus closer.

Severus shook his head as he closed his hand over Draco's arm and began to speak, but was cut off by Draco frantically attempting to rise, half-screaming in the process.

"They killed him! The potion! They have Ollivander!" Draco shouted before his throat closed and sent him into a series of coughing fits, between which he turned to retch whatever his last meal had been.

Severus could only hold Draco and keep him from falling completely out of bed. After a second wave of nausea passed, Severus was helping Draco back into bed, trying to keep him calm, when Draco's eyes shot to the doorway, then narrowed.

As if none of them had ever left the corridors of Hogwarts, Draco's lip curled up in derision as he sneered, "Mudblood..."


	7. Bloodstone

A/N: With epfics complete, we are pleased to announce the return of tag!fic. - Anastasia and Ariadne

* * *

"Draco!" Severus hissed, shoving Draco down onto the bed. 

"No, let him up," Hermione said calmly. "I want to hear what the great _Draco Malfoy_ has to say."

Both Draco and Severus froze, the only sound being Draco's shallow breathing and stifled moans. He lay on his side, shifting from side to side in a rocking motion, his hand clutching his side. Baring what was left of his teeth, Draco resembled a wounded animal that was a hair from biting anything within range.

"Nothing?" Hermione taunted, pushing the hellebore into Severus' hands as she passed. "Is 'Mudblood' all that you have?"

Draco's eyes tracked to Severus for help and found none.

Hermione approached the bed, ignoring how Draco's blood had created a pool around the edge of the mattress. On closer inspection, Hermione could see that he was visibly shaking, whether from anger or shock wasn't clear. Blood had made its way into one of his eyes, forcing him to look at her with cold malice from the other.

"Understand this, Malfoy," Hermione said, "Somehow, we are on the same side. If you think for one minute that I am going to tolerate your arrogant, pure-blood rubbish, you are sadly mistaken. I would nurse you back to perfect health just for the pleasure of hexing you into very small bits. Are we clear?"

"What is this, Snape?" Draco rasped, looking over to where Severus was preparing the hellebore and back to Hermione.

Severus didn't have a chance to answer.

"Well said."

Hermione turned to find Severus' grandmother standing in the doorway, gesturing toward her with her cane and nodding.

They watched her stare at the floor, where a trail of blood led to where Draco lay, press her lips in a thin line and step over the threshold.

"Grandmother, this is-"

"I know a Malfoy when I see one, Severus."

Severus and Hermione exchanged a glance as the old woman approached the bed. Draco, who had abandoned hope of holding himself up, stared up at her through one rapidly swelling eye. In the silence, the sound of the air being dragged into his throat took on a disturbingly abnormal rhythm.

"Who did this?" she asked as she held out a hand for the hellebore.

Draco remained still, his eyes closed, concentrating on the simple act of drawing breath. "My father."

The old witch simply nodded.

Draco looked to Severus, saying, "When he discovered that I informed you of the attack at Spinner's End... and my failure... "

The old witch applied a balm to Draco's side, causing him to hiss in pain. With her free hand, she pressed a small flask to his lips, forcing him to drink the bitter potion. Within a minute, his breathing had slowed and his body relaxed.

"They - they killed Slughorn when he refused to brew the potion," Draco said, his voice slurring as the potion took effect. "Wormtail has Ollivander in the cave... "

Severus suddenly grabbed hold of Draco's arm, shaking him, "Where? What cave?"

"Leave him be; you know he's no good to you now," the old witch ordered, taking hold of Severus' sleeve. "I've brought most of the ingredients. Take them and begin in the lab. I'll look after this one."

To Hermione's surprise, Severus scowled, but let Draco go and swept from the room.

They passed through the main room and past the still-bubbling cauldron. Severus strode before her, barely slowing to shove open an ancient door. Once inside, he lit the torches and stopped.

To Hermione, it felt like the first time that Severus had truly stopped since she first found him at Spinner's End. He stood, staring around the lab and at the impeccably organized cabinets and tables. A neat line of cauldrons of various metals lined the hearth of a monstrous fireplace occupying most of one wall. The fire sent watery shadows twisting over each other up to the ceiling. A heavy warmth hung in the air, a complete contrast to the cold dampness of the dungeons.

Their interrupted conversation fell between them, an obstacle that wouldn't give way. Words held between them, a living moment cut short by chaos.

"I meant what I said before," Hermione said taking a step toward him. "I do trust you."

"Trust in some cases is foolish," Severus said, his expression darkening as his eyes swept the line of cauldrons. "We must finish the potion first and free Ollivander. The Dark Lord will capture and _Imperio_ the first Potion master he can get his hands on to try to arm the Inferi."

Hermione nodded.

"This will be near impossible, and, most likely, lethal," he said, placing a cauldron on the worktable.

"Most worthwhile things are," she stated, waiting.

Severus paused, his eyes searching hers.

Hermione closed the distance between them, their shadows climbing higher up the walls, weaving with the wavering light.

"I know the dangers," she said, touching his hand. The same hesitation was there as before, a decision balanced on a sharp point, poised, tipping to fall. "I choose to fight for this."

"Say the word, and I shall ensure your safe return."

She stood her ground and held his gaze. "Never."

Severus held her eyes briefly, then his eyes seemed to shutter and he nodded sharply. "Very well."

He turned and, with a few precise wand movements, Summoning an array of flasks, boxes, and glass jars floating to the long wooden worktable. Gesturing imperiously toward one end of the table, he scanned the page rapidly and began to work.

Hermione joined him, and, for the next hour they worked in silence, the temperature of the room dropping paradoxically as they prepared the potion's base.

Hermione's hands grew colder as the flames leapt higher under the cauldron.

"Powdered bloodstone," Severus muttered in an undertone as sharp any he had used in the Potions classroom, gesturing toward a small, wooden box toward the back of the table.

Clenching her jaw to keep her teeth from chattering, Hermione flicked her wand at the box.

"Don't touch it," he ordered, stepping back from the cauldron. "Even a breath will contaminate -"

"I know," she countered testily, raising her wand slightly to tip the amount required into the cauldron.

As soon as the bloodstone touched the surface of the potion, the room began to warm.

Severus straightened his shoulders and, after a clinical glance at the potion, his posture relaxed. Summoning a tall stool, he sat and turned his gaze to her. "It needs to simmer before we add the first charge."

Hermione nodded and leaned against the table, her fingers tracing the woodwork, following the joins in different directions to reach the same point. She paused for a moment, then shook her head, drawing a deep breath.

"Out with it," Severus said, the light from the flames laying a sheer layer of amber over his face as he leaned forward.

Hermione tilted her head, thinking for a moment before saying, "That night. You would have, if I asked?"

The light changed in his eyes and he looked at her, the color rising with the temperature of the room.

"No," he said softly.

She glanced down at the table, at her fingertip hesitant on the join.

"No," he said again, and she heard the creaking of leather as he stood, the scraping of the stool on the flagstone floor.

"Oh." She swallowed. "I-"

"Hermione."

She saw his hand come to rest next to hers on the tabletop.

"No, it's just that I thought that you - well, it was a-"

"Hermione," he said, more firmly. "Be quiet."

Her eyes flashed to his, and she saw, for the first time since answering his summons to Spinner's End, a faint, fleeting echo of the amusement his eyes had held that night, months ago. Amusement, and something darker.

She felt a low flutter. "But-"

"I said, 'Be quiet.'"

She glared at him, and a dry, broken chuckle escaped his throat.

Running his fingertip across the back of her hand, his hand closing over hers. "That night, no. And much has changed since."

"I never doubted you," she said from between teeth that were clenched from something other than the cold. She sounded angry, even to herself.

"So you said," he said, arching his eyebrows speculatively, his hand moving up slowly, firmly up her arm, dragging her sleeve against her skin.

"If you don't believe-"

A fingertip resting on her lips, her eyes flashing even more dangerously in response.

"I believe you, Hermione." He was unable to keep the amusement out of his voice.

She started to speak. "Then-"

But her tongue brushed his finger and he inhaled sharply, closing his eyes, his hand smoothing her jaw. "Hermione," he breathed. "Be careful."

"No," she said, stepping closer to him, reaching up to run her hand under his hair, his head heavy in her hand as she tilted her face to his.

"But-"

"Be quiet, Severus," she murmured against his lips.

He groaned, dropping his hands to pull her roughly against him.

Her memories of the night in the Great Hall, the impossible tenderness of their single, forbidden kiss fled before the onslaught of his passion, so long denied, restrained.

"Hermione -" his breath hot on her cheek, his skin rough on her face as his hands pressed up her back, splaying beneath her shoulder-blades as he pulled her up towards him. "Hermione, I'm-" His breath came in a shuddering gasp as he struggled for some measure of control. All he could think was _Skin..._

Closing her hand in his hair, she drew her head back. "You're what?" she breathed, her mind astray. "What?" she repeated.

"Dangerous." His hands closed on her arms, and he lifted her to the table in a single, fluid motion.

She gasped, her hand clenching tighter in his hair.

A warm trail of breath, his thumb pressing firm, harder against her cheek, responding, her neck arching away from the pressure, his voice a low growl in her ear. "It was forbidden, Hermione."

She nodded, her eyes falling closed as he repeated, "Forbidden. This-" his lips warm, soft on her ear – "this-" his hand swept her breast – she drew a sharp breath – "this-" his teeth closing, dragging, sharp. "But now-"

A sudden chill as he drew back. Her eyes flew open, a question.

A dark silhouette against the pale flames, the rising mist of the waiting potion. "It's not forbidden now, Hermione." He waited, his thumb drawing a slow, guarded circle on her leg, each circle drawing infinitely higher, inexorably closer, insistently, inevitably…

Eyes wide, then fluttering closed, she shuddered.

Unbearably slowly, bracing his arm behind her, the rough table catching at her jeans as he pulled her toward him, he leaned over her. "No, not forbidden," he said, his mouth working a slow descent on her throat. His teeth raked her collarbone, and she gave a small cry.

Her voice was his undoing, and his mouth seared the skin at her collar as he pressed her backward to the table.

Her thoughts wild, she wove her fingers into his hair, falling farther backward into his hand, a burning anchor in a world tilting further askew.

_Skin…_ His thoughts driven, driven forward, rushing - images in his mind, fleeting, wild, whirling, memories… _Eyes…_

Hands to buttons, buttons to skin, a slip of white – smooth, slick…

_Skin…_ Fabric sliding, his skin rough, calloused, a nail, rough… another memory… _Eyes, old… _

Nails into skin soft, pliable… Another cry… her voice… her fingers working, into his collar, hot wool, air, cooling, eyes, warm, fingers flames on his back, seeking…

_Skin…_ The table groaned, his hip sharp, fingers tight, tighter on her arm, pressing, desperate… and then another… _Eyes, old, tired…_

His back exposed, her nails, sharp, raking…

His eyes changed, a deeper darkness, a moan reverberating, growing, force, insistent, aching…

_Skin… _Fingers deep, deeper, her hips an anchor, fingers bruising, drawing her, drawing breath deeper, breathing, changing, and another... _Eyes, old, tired…_

Her voice, softer, deeper, growing, her breath catching, straining, his name, a plea…

_Eyes, pleading… _

"No," he breathed, feeling himself spinning, needing, condensing…

_Eyes, pleading, fading… _

"No!"

Severus' shout pierced the shadows, reverberating off of stones, echoes after echoes after…

"Severus…" her voice low, breathless, her hand curling under his hair, her breath cooling the sheen on his shoulder… "Severus…"

Braced on his forearms, he dropped his head into the curve of her neck, his breathing ragged, his hair…

… _soft… so soft… _

Her fingertips a gentle sliding to his temple, brushing his hair back, her kiss a gentle pressure at the corner of his eye, his eyelashes damp, her thumb gentle, soft at his eyebrow.

The fading eyes a fleeting, dissolving image against the darkness in his mind.

"Severus," she said again, her eyes warm.

His breath a brittle catch in his throat, his hand to her hair, tender, shaking with passion spent and endless, endless regret.

Her thumb on his lips. "I know," she said, closing her eyes and drawing his head to her chest. "I know."


End file.
